


Appassionato per l'acqua

by Asheru



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asheru/pseuds/Asheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack teaches Daniel to swim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appassionato per l'acqua

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the Alpha Gate challenge "Dangerous when wet." Dedicated as always to the wonderful Quercus, who wanted our boys to have a walk on the beach. Thank you to Ali for betaing the first part before deserting me on holiday, and to Sheryl for stepping up to the plate to finish it off.

Well, thought Daniel, there goes my glorious career. Again. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to do this. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hands disbelievingly.

“Daniel, it’s part of the survival training - no one gets out of it, not even desert rats like you,” said Jack. Daniel glowered at him across the commissary table.

“It’s not that bad, really,” Sam said, sitting down next to Daniel, “If little old me can do it, I’m sure you can.” Jack chuckled, his mouth full of toast.

“That’s not the point,” said Daniel, “I don’t understand why it’s necessary. Most of our travel is through the gate or on foot, apart from the occasional attempt to hitch a ride on a Goa’uld mother ship. Why should I have to prove I can survive a helicopter crash at sea? I mean, when is this ever going to happen?”

“I have passed this test, DanielJackson,” said Teal’c, putting a plate down on the table and pulling up the last remaining chair. Daniel noted absently that this morning’s selection was a small mountain of chocolate sponge cake covered in cream.

“Teal’c, I thought we’d discussed acceptable breakfast choices,” said Jack, eyeing his plate.

“Fruit loops are not the food of warriors,” Teal’c replied, calmly taking a bite of chocolate cake.

Daniel tore his eyes away and got back to the subject at hand – his imminent dismissal or demise. “It’s all right for you, Teal’c, Junior can breathe under water.”

Teal’c paused in his demolition of the chocolate cake. “Are you not comfortable with being under water?”

Daniel felt three pairs of eyes suddenly fix themselves on him. He took another fortifying swallow of coffee before replying.

“Of course I’m comfortable. I’m perfectly comfortable. Why shouldn’t I be?” said Daniel. He realised he was beginning to babble, and everyone was still staring at him. “I guess… I was never that good at swimming,” he finished lamely, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I learned late.”

“But you can swim, I’ve seen you,” said Jack. “On Nem’s planet, you swam to shore.”

Daniel’s mouth went dry, his mind suddenly back in that underwater prison. There was no way Jack could have known just how often Daniel had started awake in the middle of the night, heart racing, convinced he was still buried alive under that sea, being asked questions he did not know how to answer. He took a steadying breath, doing his best to appear nonchalant. “Yes, I can swim, I just don’t like it much. You said it yourself, Jack, I’m more at home in the desert – it’s what I’m used to.”

Jack’s eyes were surprisingly soft. “Daniel, I didn’t make the rules. It’s standard air force training, and every SGC team has to do it, civilian advisers included. You never know, it might save your life one day.”

Daniel figured it would be safer not to accept lifts from strange men in helicopters, but he kept that thought to himself.

“When are you scheduled to go?” asked Sam.

Daniel looked at the piece of paper by his plate again, as if he had not already read it a dozen times. “Two weeks’ time,” he said tersely, folding the paper up and putting it in his pocket. He pushed his chair back and stood up to leave, not wanting to discuss it any further. “I’d better get to work on that translation for SG9, I’ll catch you later.” As he walked out of the commissary he could almost feel their concern following him. He was overreacting, and he knew it, but he just could not shake the feeling of dread.

Work, as always, soothed him, the intricate patterns of symbol and speech absorbing him completely until Jack stuck his head round Daniel’s door later that afternoon.

“How’s it going?” asked Jack, opening the door carefully. The last time he’d let it swing open, he’d inadvertently crushed an elaborate Mayan mobile, which Daniel had been foolish enough to pin to the back of the door. Now he approached Daniel’s office with the same wary respect he gave Carter’s lab.

Daniel looked up at him. There was nothing particularly urgent about the work he was doing, so either Jack was just being friendly, or he had some other motive.

“Not too bad – the alphabet is similar to Cyrillic,” said Daniel, neutrally.

Jack took another few steps into the room.

“You know, I used to coach the swimming team at Charlie’s school,” Jack said, suddenly acquiring an interest in the Russian dictionary lying open on Daniel’s desk.

“I didn’t know that,” said Daniel.

“Of course, that was years ago, but Doc Fraiser seems to think swimming is good for the knees,” Jack continued, his eyes catching Daniel’s for an instant before returning to the book. “She’s suggested I take a dip now and then, you know…for therapy. She says it’s good exercise.”

Daniel snorted. “As if we don’t get enough exercise running around off world.”

Jack fixed him with another look, for longer this time. “I’ve gone to the pool downstairs a few times, but no one else seems to use it, and it’s pretty dull swimming on your own.”

It was a little known fact that deep within Cheyenne Mountain there was an Olympic sized pool. Daniel had only discovered it by accident after getting out on the wrong level one day, head in a book. Since then, he’d suspected that the mountain held other, stranger, secrets in its buried chambers, though he still didn’t believe Jack’s claim to have found an ice rink on level 27.

Daniel looked up at Jack’s face, trying to work out what he was thinking. Jack hadn’t suggested that the two of them do anything alone together since that fateful party at Janet’s three months ago. Daniel had discovered too late that the punch was 9/10 vodka, after he’d given into a long held desire to nibble Jack’s ear as Jack poured him into his truck. The memory still made him cringe. Jack had made some off hand comment about there being easier ways to get the ear of your commanding officer, and neither of them had said anything about it since. Jack definitely seemed to be suggesting he wanted company now, though… and maybe it would be a good idea to get some swimming practice in before the test.

“What about tomorrow night, after work?” Daniel asked tentatively, and was rewarded with the patented O’Neill grin.

“That would be great – meet you down there at six? We could grab a bite to eat afterwards,” said Jack. If he had any reservations about the evening’s plans, they were invisible to the naked eye.

Daniel nodded and Jack headed back out the door, humming under his breath.

‘I am so easily played,’ thought Daniel. Followed by, ‘do I still own any swimming trunks?’

* * *

Daniel was first to the pool the next evening. He found it empty, lit by that eerie half glow so beloved of expensive gyms. It seemed enormous, far bigger than he’d remembered, the water shimmering across white tiles into the distance. Daniel headed resolutely for the changing rooms. A frantic excavation before work that morning had revealed an ancient pair of black Speedos, but the goggles were long gone. Picking the locker furthest from the door, Daniel quickly shrugged out of his BDU’s and pulled the trunks on. They were a lot smaller than he remembered, fitting over his thighs like shrink-wrapped silk. He smoothed the material down, willing it to stretch further. He caught a reflection of the movement in the mirror next to the lockers and stopped in front of it, transfixed. Over the years with the SGC his skinny frame had filled out, smooth hard muscles encasing his arms and back, legs and chest. It had happened so slowly, he hadn’t really noticed the changes. The guy gazing back at him now, with a faintly puzzled expression on his face, looked more like a marine than an archaeologist. Faint scars showed up across his skin, a delicate counterpoint to the tracery of veins and sinews. He wasn’t Mr Universe – it hadn’t gotten that bad, but neither did he look like a guy who’d get sand kicked over him at the beach anymore. It was… unsettling. Suddenly getting under the water before Jack arrived seemed like a very good idea. He took his glasses off and put them in the locker, grateful for once for the blurring of edges that followed.

‘I must have been insane to let myself get talked into this,’ thought Daniel, closing the locker door. It was odd how the thought of swimming had become the least of his worries. There was still no sign of Jack yet – or anyone else – so he grabbed a towel from the pile by the door and headed out to the pool.

The water was surprisingly warm and clear, with only a faint taste of chlorine. He started off with backstroke, always the easiest since it meant he didn’t have to put his face under water. He looked up at the fuzzy aurora of the lights overhead, and tried to get used to the feeling of water in his ears. Finally his right hand hit the opposite end of the pool, and before he could think about it too much he flipped over and tried to remember the rhythm of the crawl, one-two-three breathe, one-two-three breathe. By the time he got half way across the pool, he felt like he was drinking his way through the water. He switched to breaststroke, kicking forward with his arms outstretched. Absurdly, he imagined himself drawing pyramid shapes in the water, hands together at the apex and then down and back along the sides. Kick, glide, pull back. Kick, glide, pull back. When he got to the other end, he surfaced in front of a pair of boots. He looked up at the dark outline of Jack, who was still fully clothed.

“Your stroke isn’t bad. You’ve got good buoyancy. The thing that’s holding you back is the breathing,” said Jack, hunkering down.

“Yeah, well, it’s a hard habit to break,” said Daniel.

Jack chuckled. “Give me a minute and I’ll be in there with you.”

Daniel started another length of backstroke, going more slowly this time. Half way along the pool he slowed to a halt and floated for a moment, trying to remember what percentage of the human body was made of water. He heard a distant splash, and then Jack was powering towards him, faster than he would have thought possible. Daniel pushed himself upright and trod water until Jack caught up.

“Breaststroke,” said Jack as he passed him, and they swam side by side to the other end.

Jack pulled himself out of the water and sat on the edge, beckoning Daniel to do the same. They sat with their feet in the water looking down the length of the pool.

“In Elizabethan England, people used to learn to swim by watching dogs,” said Jack.

Daniel looked at him, startled. Jack had surprising pockets of knowledge that never ceased to amaze him.

“After that, they got the bright idea of copying frogs instead,“ Jack continued. “Some guy in the 17th century said the best way to do it was to put a frog in a bowl of water, tie a piece of string around the frog’s middle, then lie on a table next to it with the string in your teeth and kick whenever the frog kicked.”

“No way,” said Daniel, laughing. “So where’s my frog?”

“I guess you’ll just have to make do with me,” said Jack, smiling sideways at him, his hair plastered to his face.

A little voice in Daniel’s head whispered ‘and if I kiss you, do you turn into a prince?’ but he pushed it back under. Not thinking about that now, not when Jack was sitting so close to him, his skin sleek with water.

“So, how about a length of crawl?” said Jack. “You start off, I’ll catch you up.”

Daniel nodded and slipped back into the pool, determined to make the whole length in one go. He got about three quarters of the way down before his heart was hammering so hard he had to stop. Jack glided past him, slowing to a halt a few feet away. He came back to where Daniel was treading water and gulping down air.

“Try slowing it down,” said Jack. “It’s not like there’s a shark on your tail.” Daniel nodded and started off again, deliberately trying to pause between each movement in the sequence. It was easier to keep the rhythm going, but just as tiring. He was grateful to get to the other end, where Jack was waiting for him.

“I don’t know why I’m finding this so hard,” said Daniel, ruefully. “I’m in better shape these days than I’ve ever been.”

Jack tilted his head to one side, appraisingly. “I’ve noticed.”

Daniel wasn’t sure quite what to make of that, or the approving look. Jack rarely complimented him about anything - his attitude to line management seemed to be “If I’m not yelling at you, you’re doing OK.”

“You know what your problem is?” asked Jack.

“I don’t have frog DNA?”

Jack tapped him gently on the nose. ”You don’t let go of your breath. You’re still breathing out when you surface, when you should be breathing in. You have to let it all out under water, and trust that you’ll be OK when you come up again.”

Daniel considered this, and strangely it made perfect sense. He nodded at Jack thoughtfully.

“I want you to try something,” said Jack. “Take a deep breath, kick off from the side and then see how long you can swim under water before you come up.”

“Ok,” said Daniel dubiously. He took a few deep breaths then ducked under, pushing away from the wall. Not having to think about breathing made it easier to concentrate on the strokes, and he relaxed into it, surprising himself by covering a third of the pool before having to come up for air.

Jack was watching him from a few feet ahead, as before.

“You’re a good teacher, Jack,” said Daniel when he’d got his breath back. It was weird; he’d never thought of Jack in that way, and certainly never thanked him for all the things he’d taught him over the years. Daniel was the academic, not Jack. He found himself grinning at Jack – this was turning out to be fun.

“I have my moments,” said Jack, smiling back at him. “Come on, let’s work up an appetite for that pizza.”

An hour later, having surely swum a distance equal to the drive back to his flat, Daniel climbed gratefully into his car and followed Jack’s truck out of the mountain in search of pizza. He felt mellow and long-limbed, his hair still slightly damp against his neck. He rolled his window down to let the night air in. Up above, the stars were beginning to come out in the autumn sky. When they slowed down at intersections, he could hear snatches of opera floating back from Jack’s truck ahead of him, a ghostly whisper of heavenly voices.

They pulled up at Jack’s favourite Italian restaurant, scene of quite a few raucous team nights over the years. They seemed to have been forgiven for the breakages, judging by the warmth of the greeting from Tony, the patron. A table at the back was quickly found for them, with a beer for Jack and a glass of wine for Daniel appearing before they’d got their jackets off.

“We haven’t been to Tony’s since…” started Daniel.

“I know, I know, the talking chickens,” finished Jack.

“They weren’t poultry, they were a highly intelligent life form,” said Daniel reprovingly.

“Sure looked like chickens though,” said Jack, waggling his eyebrows.

“No one would believe us,” sighed Daniel, a familiar refrain. Jack chuckled.

They ordered the largest pizzas on the menu. Daniel was ravenous. He bit off a piece of breadstick and swallowed some wine.

Jack looked at him thoughtfully, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Such hesitation was rare in Jack, and Daniel was intrigued.

“What, Jack?”

“I was wondering if you were still worried about that test,” Jack replied.

Daniel had managed to completely forget about it for the last two hours. Now that faint feeling of unease was right back in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, it can’t be as bad as…oh, say… being locked in a small room with Hathor,” said Daniel, trying to see the up side.

Jack winced. “Really, it’s not that bad, you’ll be fine.”

“What exactly is involved?” asked Daniel.

“I took the test a long time ago, but from what I remember they rig the best part of a helicopter over a tank full of sea water, set a wave machine going, strap you into the helicopter and throw it upside down into the pool.”

“Oh…my…god,” said Daniel, taking another gulp of wine. “And what happens if you don’t get out?”

“You fail the test,” said Jack.

“It sounds like ducking witches,” said Daniel, shaking his head. “Trial by water, I always thought the military had a medieval side.”

“Hey, it’s worse in the navy,” said Jack, leaning back as Tony set their pizzas down on the table. “At least it’s not trial by fire.”

“What do you mean?” asked Daniel, his mouth full of pizza. It tasted wonderful, the hot cheese zinging across his tongue.

“Fire at sea is a serious business. So they put them in flame retardant suits, set light to the hold of an old frigate, then throw them in and lock the door.”

“They don’t let them out?” asked Daniel, shocked.

“Not till they put the fire out,” said Jack. “If you’re at sea, you don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Remind me again why I work for the military?” asked Daniel.

“Because no one else would employ you?” said Jack.

Daniel narrowed his eyes at him.

“Joke! Just a joke!” said Jack hurriedly. “Because what we do at the SGC is the most important job on earth,” he added. “And your planet needs you.”

Daniel started chuckling. “You make it sound like ‘Flash! We only have 14 seconds to save the earth!’”

“Sometimes we don’t get 14 seconds,” said Jack.

Daniel sighed, and drained the last of his wine. The hell of it was, it was true. That was what kept Daniel on the team, military mindfucks notwithstanding. A small silence fell between them, until Jack spoke again.

“I’ve got to go over to the off world training site next week.”

“For anything in particular?” asked Daniel.

“Nah, just a catch up meeting with Colonel Taylor. But there’s a beach on the way back to the gate, and it’s the middle of summer there. I was going to take Teal’c along for the ride, but maybe you’d like to come? We could get in some sea swimming.” Jack was looking down at his beer as if he could tell his fortune in it. Daniel felt a warm glow start dangerously near his breastbone; two invites in a week, he should reveal his weaknesses more often.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Daniel said casually, but Jack looked up and caught him in a face breaking grin.

“Good,” was all Jack said, before moving on to talk shop and sports. Daniel let him ramble on, interjecting here and there whenever he showed signs of slowing down, reluctant for the evening to end. It was all too rare a pleasure to have someone to eat dinner with, and he had not realised how much he missed it.

* * *

The meeting with Taylor turned out to be surprisingly useful, with Daniel getting a commitment to release the cadets for some work experience with SG11. Anything which made the marines more aware of the 101 things not to do when guarding an archaeological dig would be a godsend, especially after the incident with the papyrus on P3Z526 – there had to have been more appropriate sources of kindling. Jack and Taylor had a long moan about the latest military hardware, which was proving to have more bugs than a Microsoft update, and then after a light lunch they headed to the beach.

It was a glorious summer’s day. They walked down from the camp to the dunes, the scrubby grass gradually giving way to white sand. The sky was the eggshell blue of an eighteenth century ceiling, clear for as far as the eye could see. A faint smell of pine and salt wafted across from the trees to their right. They climbed over the largest dune and were rewarded by a grand vista of the pale pink sea, curving round in a bay. Away in the distance to their left a group of cadets were diving off an outcrop of rocks, their shouts just audible.

“Wow,” said Daniel. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is. We really picked a good spot for the camp.”

“It wasn’t chosen for the beach,” said Jack, shrugging out of his shirt. “But I agree, it would be a great selling point for a recruitment brochure.”

Daniel pulled his boots and socks off, pressing his toes into the hot sand blissfully.

“Aren’t we kinda goofing off here?” he asked Jack.

“Nah,” said Jack. “I told Taylor I was helping you train for the test next week, and he thought it was a great idea. Hammond’s not expecting us back until six.”

Daniel rummaged around in his knapsack and pulled out his trunks, which he changed into at record speed.

“I appreciate you doing this,” said Daniel as they walked down to the water.

Jack patted him gently on the back, his hand cool against Daniel’s warm skin. “I don’t often get the chance to help you out, Daniel. You’re too damn smart about most things. It’s a pleasure.”

They waded into the sea. It was ice cold, each wave breaking over them sending electric shocks across Daniel’s sensitive skin. Jack startled him by grabbing a hand and pulling them both under water, not letting go until they were completely immersed. Daniel pulled himself up to the surface, spluttering. Jack came up a moment later, laughing.

“You’ll pay for that,” said Daniel indignantly.

“You have to catch me first,” said Jack, diving under again and heading away from the shore.

Given such an incentive Daniel forgot about breathing, forgot even about the last time he was in the sea, and just hurled himself after Jack. He could see Jack’s legs ahead of him, cutting easily through the water. Smug bastard. Daniel speeded up and managed to catch a foot, pulling Jack down. Jack twisted away from him, as slippery as a shape shifter, but Daniel held on, pulling himself hand over hand along Jack’s body to his thigh, then up to his arms. For a moment they were locked in a bizarre underwater version of the tango, and then Daniel had to let go to reach the surface, gasping for air and laughing. Jack was already ahead of him, paddling just out of arm’s reach.

Daniel flipped over onto his back and floated, looking up at the sky. This far out from the shore the waves were gentler, rocking him slowly. For the first time he could remember, he felt quite at home, the salt rich water supporting him. He closed his eyes and drifted. A few minutes later he felt Jack’s hand brush his arm, gently this time.

“What’ya thinking about?” asked Jack.

Daniel opened his eyes and rolled over, paddling to stay upright. “Salt,” he replied.

“Ah,” said Jack. “Different density, makes you more buoyant.”

“Half the revenue of the Tang Dynasty was based on it. It’s thought the Romans founded many of their cities near salt mines, and their soldiers were often paid in it, hence the origin of the word ‘salary.’”

“I’ll take mine in dollars,” said Jack.

“The Egyptians used it to preserve food from 2000 BC, but their priests weren’t allowed to eat it because they believed it excited sexual desire,” Daniel continued.

“No way,“ said Jack, laughing.

“The Romans thought so too – ‘salacious’ comes from ‘salax,’ or in a salted state,” said Daniel, before turning to swim further out from the shore.

“You think about the weirdest things,” Jack called after him, before diving into a crawl to catch him up.

They swam until the sun had sunk another 30 degrees in the sky, then towelled themselves down and headed for the gate. The cadets had long returned to camp, and they were accompanied only by the occasional seabird overhead.

Standing in front of the gate’s event horizon, just before they walked through, Jack suddenly reached across and stroked a strand of wet hair out of Daniel’s eyes. Daniel stood very still, his heart stuttering. He looked sideways at Jack.

“So what does salt do for you, Daniel?” Jack asked, softly, before stepping through the gate.

When they emerged into the bright light of the gate room, Jack strode off ahead of him as if he hadn’t said anything, leaving Daniel to wonder if he’d managed to get all the sea water out of his ears. By the time he’d gathered his wits about him, Jack was nowhere in sight, leaving him to go home alone.

* * *

Nor was Jack anywhere to be seen for the next four days leading up to the test – Daniel asked Hammond about it and was given an evasive reply about him ‘sorting some stuff out in Washington.’ Sam and Teal’c were just as much in the dark as Daniel. He tried Jack’s cell phone but it was on divert, drove by his house but the truck was gone. He badgered Hammond again, but was sent away with the nearest he’d had to a flea in his ear and told not to worry.

One good thing about the test coming up was that Teal’c and Sam automatically assumed his lack of concentration was due to that, and each in their own way did their best to help. He spent three hours meditating with Teal’c, and accepted Sam’s offer to drive him to the test centre on Monday morning. The night before he was due to go, he put Sam’s “Good Luck” card on his bedside table and lay staring at the ceiling. Not worrying. Not worried one little bit. Not thinking about the lack of “Good Luck” card from Jack (as if that had ever been likely). Not worrying about Jack. Not THINKING about Jack. Not thinking about what Jack was thinking. Not thinking. Oh hell. He gave it up and put the bedside lamp on again, reaching out for his latest cure for insomnia, a three-inch tome on Roman roofing tiles.

Sam came to collect him bright and early the next morning. It was stupid really, it was out of her way and he could just as well have driven himself, but he had to admit it was good to see her cheery face. They got in the car and drove off at her usual breakneck speed.

“Daniel, you’ll be fine,” Sam said for the 100th time, patting him in a sisterly manner on his knee. ”You’ll come back and tell us how they had it all set up wrong, and you ended up rescuing some cadet who didn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

Daniel smiled weakly. He had not thought about the other people on the course at all, being so preoccupied with his own worries.

Sam drove through the security checkpoint into the parking lot. She leaned across and kissed Daniel on the cheek. “Just give me a call when you’re done and I’ll come and pick you up,” she said.

“Really, I can get a taxi, it’s no big deal,” said Daniel, gathering his things and opening the car door.

Sam’s voice was firm. “You give me a call, DanielJackson – we’ll all want to know how you got on!”

“All right,” said Daniel, leaning down to smile at her before shutting the door. With one last wave she was off, leaving him standing by the entrance. Oh well, here goes nothing.

Of course, it was horrible, but nowhere near as bad as he’d feared. They spent the morning in lectures, and the actual test wasn’t until the afternoon. There were eight people on the course, and by the end of the day, he felt bonded to the lot of them, despite his usual reservations about marines. There was something about being strapped into several tons of metal, twisted upside down like a macabre fair ground ride, then thrown at speed into a pitch black pool. Jack had forgotten to mention the “flying at night” scenario. Or the fact that the helicopter still had its blades rotating as it hit the water. Or that sometimes seatbelts got jammed, and doors didn’t open. Daniel and a small wiry looking woman had ended up half dragging one marine out of his seat and through a hole punched through the windscreen by the others. The whole thing probably lasted 10 minutes, less than a third of that spent under water. When Daniel’s head broke through the surface he was met by loud cheers from the others, who seemed to have decided he wasn’t so bad for a civilian.

They all passed the test; even the poor soul whose seatbelt catch had jammed. Daniel waved goodbye to them in the parking lot, refusing several offers of a lift back to town, and dug down into his bag for his cell phone. He felt completely drained, and utterly exhilarated. He’d done it. He’d passed the test. He wasn’t going to get thrown out after all. He crouched down to get to the bottom of his bag, and was suddenly overshadowed by an all too familiar truck, which screeched to a halt beside him.

Daniel stood up slowly, watching Jack get out of the driver’s seat in his dress blues. Time seemed to slow down, Jack walking towards him as though under water, the sounds of activity all around them fading away. Jack came to stop in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that felt as intimate as a kiss.

“Carter told me you might need a lift home,” said Jack, tilting his head to one side. “Major Tilbury tells me you came out at the top of the class.”

Daniel’s mind was still back on their last conversation, before Jack had walked through the gate ahead of him. He looked at Jack dazedly, and then felt himself being pulled into a bear hug. Jack turned his head and whispered softly in his ear ‘Breathe, Daniel. It’s all right to let go,’ and slowly Daniel let out the breath he had not even realised he was holding and allowed himself to let go, safely enfolded in that warm embrace.


End file.
